Dragon of the North
by JuneLuxray2
Summary: The land of Skyrim is in chaos; a brutal civil war antagonized by the return of dragons, once thought to be long gone. To make it worse, they're led by Alduin, the World-Eater. Tanya Strong-Steel, an apprentice battlemage caught in the middle of it all, is found to be the only one capable of stopping Alduin. She must save Skyrim, and deal with other issues adding to the chaos.


**I wrote this for someone on Tumblr, who wanted stories of other people's dovahkiins or Hawkes from Dragon Age 2. It came out kind of decent so I decided to publish it. I have no idea if I'll ever finish this. Maybe if I get inspiration.**

**This story is rated M because if I continue it the chances are the following chapters will be more violent, gorey, and all-around have more..."adult" themes, I guess.**

The sun was rising in Chorrol, Cyrodiil. It was dawn, and already there were nobles and peasants alike afoot. Night guards switched with morning-shift guards, farmers carted their produce into the city, and merchants were setting up shop.

In one of the wealthier, noble homes, a young woman stepped out, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible. Upon her was a set of light blue, hooded mage robes, the hood of the outfit pulled over her head as she scurried along towards the castle of the Count. On her back was a black rucksack, the contents of which were anyone's guess. Jingling and clattering came from the sack as she moved hastily, her boots thudding as she tread along the cobbled path.

She attracted very little attention, and her eyes remained glued to the ground. The woman only glanced up now and then to see how far she was from the castle, and then she looked back down to the ground.

Finally she reached her destination, and as she approached the stone archway before the courtyard, Two Imperial guards took notice of her approach. They stepped forth and blocked her path, the light from the peaking sun reflecting off shiny steel armor. "Halt," one said; the woman could not recognize him, for the helm he wore covered his face, leaving holes only for breathing and eyes. "Who goes there?"

She pulled back the hood, revealing herself to be a young red-headed woman. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her wide gray eyes looked up to the guards calmly. Freckles were upon her face, and she was as tall as an average Nord woman, but bore a tanner skin; a fawn shade, the result of several generations of interracial heritage. The guards stood aside upon seeing her face.

"Ah, good morning, Lady Strong-Steel," the other guard said, giving a curt bow that she returned, "you're here awfully early. Go on ahead."

"Thank you, good sir." Her voice was quiet, and somewhat adenoidal. She kept walking at a brisk pace, almost jogging to the door. She went inside, and the scent of breakfast rose to her nose- no doubt for the count and countess. The smell made her hungry, and her stomach rumbled. She shook her head and kept going, for she had more important matters at hand.

She dodged the servants and made her way to the court mage's quarters. The quarters were large, with an enchanter's table and alchemy lab, shelves along all walls packed with soul gems of every size and shape. Several racks and shelves carried alchemy ingredients, and several bookshelves were filled with spell tomes and other books.

At the enchanter's table, an elderly Altmer man in dark brown master robes stood over a golden amulet. He grabbed a grand soul gem from one of the shelves and muttered some incantations, With a flash of red, the soul gem disappeared, and the amulet bore a soft red glow. After a few more muttered words, the glow disappeared. He held it up in one fist and turned to the woman in the doorway.

"Now then, my lass," he said calmly, yet expectantly, "can you tell me what I enchanted this for?"

"The red glow tells me it's for warrior-related purposes," she said promptly, "and guessing by the words you used- I could barely make them out, mind you- it was for improved weapon damage...for a one-handed sword?"

"Two handed sword," the altmer corrected, "but close. One of the count's knights paid good coin to have this enchanted. He'll be here to pick it up later- an orc named Sir...something or other. He'll recognize it, hand it to him if he shows up." He lazily placed it on one of the shelves and turned his eyes back to the girl. "You're here early again, lass. Waiting for that letter from a courier."

The young mage shrugged. "Yes," she admitted, "I was hoping he had come early or in the night and you had it..."

"Be patient, Tanya," the old elf said, patting her on the back lightly. "I've been the court mage here since the third era, year 300. That means I've been here for...goodness, 378 years since I've taken this job. That letter of acceptance into the College of Winterhold will probably get here long before I retire in another two hundred years, so don't you worry." He patted her on the head, and in response she pouted at him.

"What if it's not a letter of acceptance, Arindil? What if it's a letter of rejection?" she asked, fidgeting and biting her lip. "What if I'm stuck here? By the Ni- _Eight_, I don't want to go to the College of Whispers or the Synod! What would I do with my life?"

Arindil raised an eyebrow at her. "What in the world's gotten into you? You've always been such a cocky little thing when it comes to tests and just about...well, anything. Why now are you so worried? It's just another test, isn't it?"

Tanya looked away. "It's just...well, a few nights ago, you know how the Count had a ball...all the nobles, including my family, was there. A marquess there asked about what I was doing." She huffed. "I told her all about how I was doing so great in learning magic from you and how smart I am and all that."

"Flattering yourself, then?" Arindil asked, smirking. She scowled at him.

"Well, I _am_ smart." she huffed. "But the marquess pointed out that my older brother has been serving with the Imperial Legion for only a few years, and he's already a Praefect, and up for promotion to Tribune. My younger sister is going to some fancy school to learn how to be a diplomat, a proper, pretty lady who will probably fetch the eye of some count and become a countess."

She scowled. "And what am I doing? I'm twenty bloody years old and I'm still your apprentice. My life is going nowhere if I don't get into that college."

Arindil placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled kindly at her. "Don't let some fool tell you how successful she thinks you are." He rolled his eyes. "Besides, the reason you're still an apprentice is because magic is much harder to learn than diplomatic etiquette or swinging a sword. It takes years, and for a Nord...well, half-Nord, half-Imperial like you, no offense, you've come far. I've put in a good word for you in your application."

"Still," she fretted, "what will I amount to? My ancestor is Antonia Strong-Steel, the Hero of Kvatch, the second Divine Crusader! Her cousin was the Nerevarine! Everyone in my family by my age has done something exceptional. All but me."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Arindil scolded, "you'll get into that college and do great things, too. That Nerevarine of yours wasn't found to be the Nerevar Incarnate until he was 26. Calm yourself."

Tanya averted her eyes from his gaze as he kept speaking. "I understand you're impatient, but you must not let some royal pain get on your nerves. As for now, I want you go to study the Summon Frost Atronach spell. I'll let you know if something comes up."

"Yes, sir." she said in a monotone. She headed for the bookshelf, grasped the spell tome, and went to study. The next several hours for Tanya Strong-Steel was study or enchanting work, with some alchemy practice. Finally, by five in the evening, Arindil called it a day.

"Lass, I think it's about time to go home."

"'Kay." Tanya closed the book in hand and went for the door to leave. Arindil scowled.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She turned to him, blinking a few times. "You said that-"

"You didn't let me finish. I want to see if you can summon a frost atronach before you go."

"What? But I-"

"No buts, young lady." Arindil said sternly, though a coy smile was on his lips. Tanya groaned.

"Yes, sir." She raised her right hand, which had taken on a light blue glow. Under her breath, she mumbled some incantations. Sweat began to drip from her brow as she curled her fingers into a fist. Snowflakes dropped from her fist and she released the magic. A swirling purple portal appeared and in its wake it left a tall, icy daedroth.

Gleefully, she squealed in delight. Her pride was cut short, however, when the frost atronach faded away within ten seconds- far shorter than the expected full minute. She groaned again and grumbled.

"I swear to the gods, I was so close!"

"Good for a first try," Arindil said calmly. He began to push her towards the door. "Now go home. Maybe tomorrow that magic letter will come-"

He stopped speaking as a short Bosmer courier approached the mage quarters, peeking in politely, a bag full of letters over his shoulder. "Pardon me," he said, looking at Tanya, "are you Lady Strong-Steel?"

Tanya gaped, suddenly unable to speak. It was the letter that determined her fate. Arindil took over for her lack of words.

"Yes, this is her."

"Then I've got a letter for you, my lady. From the College of Winterhold." he said. The courier handed her the envelope, sealed with crimson wax. "Looks like that's it. Got to go." he said, scurrying off.

Tanya's hands shook as she stared at the letter. Slowly, she peeled it open and set the envelope aside, holding the folded letter it held. Gingerly, her fingers unwrapped it, beginning to read the words. Her eyes skimmed the page for the words she sought, and suddenly her gazed locked onto a part of the letter.

Struck silent for a few moments, a wide grin began to grow on her face- her body began to shake, eyes and nose crinkled. Finally she began to hoot and scream with glee, bouncing up and down shamelessly. Arindil snatched the letter from her and read, and soon he beamed as well. Tanya hugged him tight and he hugged back as they jumped up and down like a pair of excited idiots.

They didn't stop as the sound of armor clanking rushed forth, and several guards came to the room to be greeted by the sight of two excited mages. The foremost one, a redguard knight, stopped and gawked at the scene. The mages stopped and smiled broadly at the group.

"Yes, good knights? How can we help you?" Tanya asked giddily. The redguard awkwardly cleared his throat.

"We, um, heard shouting and thought something was astray...is all well?"

"All is more than well." Tanya said, grasping his hands tightly. "I am going to the College of Winterhold! I'm not going to be a giant loser for the rest of my life!"

The guard patted her back awkwardly. "Glad to hear that, my lady," he said with a cough as the other guards walked away. "Just be careful up there in Skyrim. There's a civil war brewing up there, and gods know what else might happen."

"Please!" she scoffed. "What could happen? Nothing could get in my way from being the greatest mage of all time! Not a war, not a bear, not a sabre cat- not even a dragon, if those existed." She bounded out of the room. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to back! I'm off to Skyrim!"


End file.
